Moonlight Serenade
by leapylion3
Summary: Steve tries to adapt to the modern world, and during the process, encounters an old friend and flame. Warning: this story may make you feel feels you might not want to feel, and a box of tissues is recommended. Inspired by Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller.


I had a plot bunny, and I was in a Cap' America mood. So of course this was born.

I kind of hate myself for making this because I was sobbing at the end.

Also, while reading this, I highly recommend listening to Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller, since that's the song this shot is based on.

Thanks to The Lady Bard for the beta! Love ya!

Don't hesitate to drop a review, guys!

Enjoy! Mwah!

* * *

He walked down the street, taking in everything around him; the shops, the people, the parks...the change was drastic and he found it hard to believe. The last time he'd been here had been, what, seventy years ago? He winced at that thought. Stark had been right...he _was_ old, and he had missed _a lot_. He winced again, for admitting that Stark was right.

_Got beat up behind that diner...and in that alleyway..._Steve Rogers, now Captain America, mentally catalogued all the spots that still looked recognizable. He spotted a book shop down the street. _Hey, wasn't that the one where..._He squinted, double checking the name. _Yep, that's the one. First time I got pickpocketed._ Steve almost laughed out loud; the Star Spangled Man had had a rough time growing up...of course, no one knew the whole story. And if they did, they were probably too old to remember, or dead. Now, everyone only knew him as the 'Capsicle'. 'Rockette' was popular amongst his colleagues, after Tony had leaked the video from his early days as a 'superhero'. He absentmindedly whistled the oh-so-familiar tune.

Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe he wasn't being fair. He knew that he was admired and revered by thousands, if not millions, after he became a part of the Avengers. He lost count how many times a little kid would tug on his sleeve and ask for an autograph or a photograph. On other instances, cell phone numbers, pictures, even bras and other..._unmentionables_, would be hurled to him from his lady admirers. He silently thanked God that those instances had happened less frequently than the ones with the little kids.

A taxi zoomed by, the thick smoke from the exhaust port making him cough. _Great contribution to helping save our environment, sir. _The driver honked loudly and skidded to a stop right in front of a couple who was crossing the road. The loud honking of the horn echoed in his ears, even after the taxi swerved around the corner.

Another stopped across the street. The door opened and out hopped a woman, dressed in a pantsuit, briefcase in hand. Even from afar, Steve could see that she was a pretty gal, with her wide eyes, pink cheeks and full lips. As the taxi drove away, she met his eyes. He felt his heart leap into his throat and suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Peggy?" Rogers called, his voice foreign in his ears. The gal looked at him in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. _It's her...isn't it?_ "Peggy!" He shouted again. Without thinking, he dashed through the street, rolling, ducking and jumping out of the way of several angry drivers. He thought back seventy years, to when he'd first taken the serum and ran through the streets, trying to catch the German spy.

The pretty gal patiently waited for him on the sidewalk, her features a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "Quite a show you put on," She quipped, her brown eyes dancing with light. Steve laughed as he tried to catch his breath, but felt his heart drop. _Peggy was English, not a Southern Belle... _"Can I help you?" The girl asked.

Rogers licked his dry lips. "N-no, thanks," He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, you...you just looked like someone I know- _knew_. That's all,"

She nodded slowly. "Right. Well, sorry to disappoint," Her words were not unkind, but seemingly genuine and apologetic. His lips quirked up into a half-smile. Realization dawned on her face. "W-wait! You're Captain America, right?"

He chuckled softly at that. "That I am,"

"Mr. Rogers, c-can I have a picture? My nephew's a huge fan of yours," She let out a nervous giggle. "And an autograph, maybe? If it's not too much trouble, of course,"

"It's none at all," He assured her. She beamed and pulled out her cell phone. A picture and a signature, and that was that. She thanked him profusely, gave him a hug, and was on her way. Deciding he better get a move on, he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to walk down the street.

"Oh, and, Mr. Rogers?" Her voice floated back to him, snapping him out of his reverie. He turned around and saw the girl with the briefcase behind him, a smile lighting up her features. "You might wanna try the bakery down the street. I think you'll find what you're looking for," Before he could ask what she was talking about, she scurried off towards a tall building which he guessed was her workplace.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way towards the small store the girl had told him about. His heart beat faster in his chest; on the awning, in large green print, _Carter's Bakery _was written. As he opened the door, the smell of freshly baked bread hit him like a tidal wave. His stomach rumbled as he walked by the displays of pastries, tarts, cakes and sweets. Grabbing a couple of cookies off one of the countertops, he strode over to the cashier.

"Hi," Steve stuttered. "S-someone told me about this place," He handed her a five dollar bill, his hand shaking.

The cashier nodded her head slowly. "We're pretty popular with the locals," She gave him his change and put the cookies in a small bag. "She's in the back, by the way," A knowing smile played on her lips.

"What do you-"

"Just follow me, Captain," She instructed. His curiosity getting the best of him, he followed her to a room at the back of the store. "She talks about you a lot. Ever since Dad died, she's been lonely," She pushed open the wooden door. "Go ahead, Mr. Rogers. She's been waiting a while,"

The room was dim, but he could still make out the small figure sitting in the rocking chair. A thick shawl was thrown over her shoulders, and her brown-gray hair was styled messily into a bun at the back of her head. Her glassy hazel eyes were focused on a thick book in her hands. With thin, trembling fingers, she flipped the page.

"Seventy years," Her voice was surprisingly steady. "Has is really been that long, Steve?" She closed the book, dust flying from the crinkled and yellowed pages.

"It would seem so, ma'am," Rogers replied quietly. He took a seat on the bed across from her. "How have you been?"

"Well enough," She pursed her lips in thought. "I suppose my daughter let you in?"

The Avenger nodded and clasped his hands together, resting them on his knees. "She's very beautiful,"

"That she is,"

"She looks just like you," He admitted. She smiled sadly and put the book on the nightstand next to her. "He was a lucky fella," Steve muttered, almost to himself. _He should have been me. _

"He never replaced you," She murmured, as if reading his mind. "After I lost you, I couldn't bring myself to love another like I'd loved you,"

He raked his hands through his hair and tried to stop the wave of tears that threatened to escape. "I guess he was right,"

"Who was?"

"Loki. He called me the soldier out of time," He swallowed visibly. "And I am. I realized that. It's too late to have the gal I always wanted-"

"Steve, please, don't," Peggy begged. She fiercely wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You're all I thought about," Steve whispered. "You're what kept me alive," His shoulders quaked with silent sobs.

"Don't," The Brit repeated, more firmly and confidently this time. The super solider sighed and held his head in his hands. "Let's talk about happier things," Her lips quivered as she tried to form a smile. "I'm so happy that I got to see you one last time,"

"You'll see me again," He promised, the tears flowing freely now. He took her papery thin hand in his own and brought it up to his lips. "We're together now, Peggy, it's okay," He kissed her knuckles. "Everything's going to be okay,"

She took a deep breath bit her lip to try and stop the tears. "Did you ever get that dance?"

He vigorously shook his head and kissed her knuckles once more. "I still waited for you," His voice shook violently.

"Put on a song," Her voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear her. "There's a radio on the table there. Put something on," He did as he was told. He put in one of the old cassettes lying around and helped Peggy to her feet. An old Glenn Miller song came on, the soft crooning echoing in the small room.

"I still don't know how to dance," He let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Just follow my lead," She instructed. He nodded sharply and put a hand on the old woman's waist. The other was interlaced with her fragile fingers. "I'll go easy on you this time, Rogers," They grinned at one another. Rogers felt the tension ease from his shoulders as they began to step back and forth in time with the song.

Peggy Carter counted the beats quietly throughout the whole piece, doing simple enough steps for his first time dancing. For an older gal, she was energetic and light on her feet. Her mood had visibly brightened ever since they had started to dance. They laughed together and reminisced over old memories for hours; he hadn't even noticed that the song had begun to repeat itself over and over.

"Ma?" Peggy's daughter called, creaking open the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but Mark's home. Mind closing up the shop for me?" The young gal didn't wait for an answer; she dashed off to her apartment above the shop.

"Duty calls," The Brit joked. Steve smiled sadly and released her, taking a step back. "It was wonderful to see you again," She brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair away from his face.

"We'll see each other soon again," He lightly kissed her wrinkled forehead. "I promise."


End file.
